


Creative Impulse

by audiaphilios



Series: From Tumblr With Lo-- [12]
Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: F/M, I Blame Tumblr, Rare Pairings, art wank
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-07
Updated: 2016-06-07
Packaged: 2018-07-12 20:52:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 503
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7122193
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/audiaphilios/pseuds/audiaphilios
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>This thing with Nurse is new, but he’s also the only person on the team that she might conceivably hang out with if hockey wasn’t a thing.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Creative Impulse

**Author's Note:**

  * For [wildlyfuriousdragon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wildlyfuriousdragon/gifts).



> From @derekmalikpoindexter's prompt: "Favorite rare pair: Lardo / Nursey. #the art couple"
> 
>  
> 
> [Originally posted to tumblr May 26, 2016.](http://audiaphilios.tumblr.com/post/144951593665/favorite-rare-pair-lardo-nursey-the-art)

This thing with Nurse is new, but he’s also the only person on the team, aside from Bitty, that she might conceivably hang out with if hockey wasn’t a thing. And even then, as much as she loves him, Bitty’s too sunshine for her aesthetic.

Nurse, though, has a sincere appreciation for the beauty of nuance, even though the guys drag him for his poetry. He can appreciate silence in a way that Shitty could never handle, and his experience at Andover, while still privileged, was also marginalized in a way that Shits can only ever read about. 

She really should stop comparing the two, but considering they’re the only dudes at Samwell she’s felt comfortable enough to smoke with, and seen nude in a context outside of art, they’re really inescapably a set. Lardo prefers women, on the whole, for all the drama that can occasionally come with that. She’s always been good at keeping her head down and steering clear of the worst offenders.

Shitty’s she’s seen nude countless times, mostly because he hung out nude. It irritated her, sometimes, but the Haus was his home, and she didn’t have to be there if it made her uncomfortable. He wasn’t aggressively nude with her the way he was with Jack, which was a relief. They never fucked, never even touched while marginally unclothed. She could feel him pining at her, and he was too much her bro to do that to him.

Nurse, though, and tonight. Tonight, they’re at his off-campus apartment–something to be said for being rich, she supposes– and they’ve smoked, and she’s stripped him carefully of his clothes. Tonight is the third time they’ve done this. It’s an artistic experience all its own, removing Nurse’s clothing, unraveling each layer as his dilated eyes scan the room, scan her, scan the poetry of their experience. He keeps a tape recorder running. She keeps a video camera running.

Later, each will use this session to create.

But for now, it’s like they’re moving in an aquarium, under water, words muffled and garbled, light soft and indirect and shifting. The air has surface tension, his skin ripples like water when she touches. When they have these sessions, she is in control, and Nurse willingly cedes it. There is a power exchange here, one they’ve worked out in words and expressions and touches, and she is the director, the auteur, the sculptor, and Nurse her willing clay made flesh.

She explores the textures and firmness of his body, the density of his bones, the roughness of his skin and hair. She moves close to examine the small, vivid ring of color in his eyes. He stays still, as best he can, breathes deep and slow and luxurious. His breath smells like cinnamon, his skin like tea tree oil. He is sweet and astringent and spiced.

The light is blue, his skin is shadow, and her fingers move against him like pale fish beneath the sea, like the moonlight on the water.

 


End file.
